


Wrong Turn

by PrisLit



Category: Logan Lucky (2017)
Genre: Clyde likes it when you tell him what to do, Eventual Sex, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Oral Sex, Size Kink, Soft boy Clyde
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-24
Updated: 2019-02-21
Packaged: 2019-05-28 01:24:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15037658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrisLit/pseuds/PrisLit
Summary: You made a wrong turn and got lost on your way to the motel. Luckily, you found a bar with a friendly bartender who knew the area well. You didn't know it at first, but your night was about to take an interesting turn of it's own.This is a stand-alone fic, but part of a plot-line I have already developed that I may continue depending on response. Please kudo and comment if you like where this story goes!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> UPDATE 2/21/19 - Hey everybody! Just a quick update in preparation for publishing the second part of this story. SURPRISE! I'm expanding it, due to several requests (thanks to all the readers who commented!) When I originally wrote the first part of this story below, it was before I had done my research that proved that Clyde was Army Special Forces when he was in Iraq. If I had NOT planned on expanding this story, I would have left those facts alone. However, I didn't feel comfortable leaving the error, since I touch on it in the second part. Therefore, the portion of the story below that deals with Clyde's military experience HAS BEEN CHANGED. If you are re-reading this portion of the fic, expect those changes. Thanks again, and please continue to tell me what you think. Your comments keep me writing!
> 
> For my latest fic updates, follow me on tumblr at takeaseatkaren
> 
>  
> 
> \-------------------------------
> 
> Hi everyone! Hope you enjoy this sweet and smutty Clyde story. This fic started as a headcanon that I wrote for my tumblr friends helloimindelaware and im-very-moved. Thanks to them and xxadamdriverswifexx and bensrey-reysben for beta reading for me!
> 
> Please note that the typos and gramatical errors in Clyde's texts are intentional. However, if you find other errors in this story, please comment so I can fix them!

You were so out of your element.

“Turn right onto Old Farm Road” your GPS instructed. You made the turn and were promptly met with a spray of red clay dirt and loose gravel under your tires. You slowed the car, confused. A dirt road? That couldn’t be right, could it? You quickly swung your rental car around and the GPS tried to recalculate, but... signal lost.

Just great. Lost in the backwoods of West Virginia. Somewhere in the back of your mind, a familiar banjo tune began to play. You flipped on your high beams and managed to find your way back to the main road you had turned off of. But... where were you supposed to go now?

You saw the glow of colored neon in the distance as you rounded a curve. As you got closer, you realized it was a restaurant, or a bar, maybe?

Duck Tape?

What kind of name for a bar was that? You parked your car and grabbed your phone, praying someone in this hillbilly oasis would speak coherently enough to give you directions to the motel. You walked through the door and your senses were immediately overcome by the smell of stale beer, tobacco in several forms, and a hint of cheap cologne.

The moment you stepped inside, every head in the bar turned to look at you. It got noticeably quieter as twenty or so pairs of eyes carefully looked you over, determined you were definitely not from around there, then went back to their conversations.

Wow. Must have been because you missed the memo about it being “dirty overalls and cowboy boots Friday”.

You opted to avoid the tables and booths and decided to tuck yourself into a corner at the bar instead, attempting to be as invisible as possible. Maybe the bartender would be able to...

‘Damn. They grow ‘em big in West Virginia!’ you thought to yourself as you and the extra-large bartender locked eyes with each other for what seemed like an awkward eternity.

He was handsome, with dark hair that was a little too long (but it looked good on him), and facial hair (something else you didn’t normally care for, but on him, it was perfection). He had on an old 70s band T-shirt with a flannel shirt over it, and jeans that were just tight enough to make you notice.

It was his eyes that confounded you. Big and brown, those eyes peered at you now like a scared little kitten. Why in the hell was this Sasquatch of a man afraid of 5’2” you?

“Hi!” You said to break the ice, and you thought you saw him jump a little at the sound of your voice. “Uh... I just drove in from Chicago.I think I’m a little lost? I was trying to find Hwy 5? My GPS crapped out on me up the road from here.”

The bartender just stared. You could have sworn this man’s fight or flight response was attempting to engage.

“Yeah, so...” you continued. “If you could point me in the right direction? Also, I’m starving. Do you guys serve food?”

“Yep.” He replied, and then proceeded to turn and walk away.  You sat for a moment, utterly perplexed, when you heard a chuckle to your right. You turned to the man sitting there, dressed in a grease-stained work shirt and baseball cap.

“Don’t worry about him.” The man said. “That just means he likes you. He’ll be back in a second with the menu.” He stuck out his hand. “Jimmy Logan.” He said. You took his hand and shook it. “The not so jolly giant over there is my little brother Clyde.”

“ _Little_ brother?” You said with a laugh. “What does your _big_ brother look like?”

Jimmy pointed at you and slapped the bar as he laughed.

“I like you! You’re funny!” He said, taking a sip of his beer. At that moment, Clyde came back over, menu in hand. He looked at you, then at Jimmy, and back at you, frowned as he slid the menu in front of you, and walked away.

You looked over the menu and settled on some BBQ chicken nachos. Clyde took your order and tapped it into the point of sale computer. That’s when you saw it. Clyde had been holding his left hand behind him slightly since he’d walked over to you earlier, almost as if he had been hiding something. Now you saw why. In place of his left forearm and hand was a high-tech mechanical prosthetic. Jimmy must have seen you staring (although you hadn’t meant to).

“He’s sensitive about it.” Jimmy said. “The hand.” He tipped the neck of his beer bottle towards his brother, as if he needed to clarify who he was talking about.

“That’s understandable.” You replied. “I can’t imagine how difficult it must be. He looks like a sweet guy too. Quiet. Does he ever talk?” You asked.

“Lord, yes.” Jimmy retorted with a chuckle, and took another sip of his beer. “There are nights when I wish I could shut ‘im the hell up!”

“Good looking guy, too.” You said under your breath, but Jimmy must have had excellent hearing because he raised his eyebrows at you and grinned. You blushed when you realized you’d been heard.

“Welp, gotta make a trip to the office, then I’m heading home.” Jimmy said suddenly as he got up from his bar stool. He drained the rest of his beer in one sip when he stood, then nodded towards you. “Been nice talkin’ to you, city girl! Be safe out there.”

You smiled at Jimmy and said goodbye. He was halfway to the back of the bar when you realized you still didn’t know where the hell you were!

“Wait, Jimmy!” You called. “Can you give me directions to Hwy 5?” Jimmy turned and smiled and shrugged.

“Clyde’s yer man for directions. Have a good night, doll.”

Clyde was looking at his brother like a deer in the headlights from the other end of the bar. Jimmy just winked at him and tilted his head back in your direction. You smirked. What had _that_ little interaction been about?

In a few minutes, Clyde brought your food.

“So, it’s Clyde, right?” You asked before he could slip away again. He nodded shyly.

“Yep.” He said. “What else did my brother tell ya’?” His drawl was slow and very West Virginian, but every syllable was enunciated as if he had carefully considered each word before speaking it.

“Nothing really,” you replied “other than you’re a nice guy, and you can give me directions to the highway.”

“Well, yeah. I reckon I can.” Clyde said. You popped a nacho in your mouth as he continued. “Where on five are ya’ headed?”

“Cozy Comfort motel.” You replied.

“You in town for long?” Clyde asked, and he stumbled on a couple of the words, as if asking that question made him very nervous. You grinned.

“For a week.” You replied. “Visiting my aunt on her farm. I didn’t want to roll in on her so late at night though, so I decided to get a room.” You flushed slightly, feeling like you were oversharing. There was something about Clyde, though. You wanted to get him talking for some reason.

You chatted for a while about the town, and your aunt’s farm. You soon discovered that, just like his brother said, getting Clyde to talk wasn’t that difficult once you had him engaged in a subject he was familiar with. He would chat with you for a while, then go take care of patrons, but as soon as he was done he would quickly make his way back to you.

You noticed the more comfortable Clyde got, the closer he would get to you as you conversed. Soon, he was leaning on his forearms on the bar right in front of you so that the two of you were at eye level. It was then that you realized just how incredibly gorgeous this walking plaid-covered brick wall of a man really was.

As the night became late-night, the bar gradually emptied until it was only you and two or three locals who required little attendance. As you were reminiscing about the tire swing your aunt had put in the big oak tree at her farm (you wondered if it was still there), Clyde came around the bar and took the seat next to you.

“What made you decide to become a bartender?” You asked Clyde. You were playing with the straw from your glass of soda, twisting it in your fingers. You were nervous. No, not nervous. You were... flustered? What was this guy doing to you?

“It was a necessity more’n anything, I reckon’.” Clyde replied. “When I opened this place, it did not occur to me that findin’ a qualified bartender would be s’hard. My sister Mellie makes a dern good cocktail, but her passions lie with hairdressin’, not bartendin’. Not to mention Jimmy near ‘bout killed a guy that popped her on the rear the one night she did work here. So I did the responsible thing as a business owner, and learned to do it my own self.

“Wait.” You said, an element of surprise in your voice. “You OWN this place? Wow, Clyde, that’s impressive!” You leaned over without even thinking and brushed your elbow against his. The metal of his prosthetic was smooth and cool against your skin. You felt him retract his touch from you slightly, although you could tell it was more of a reflex than a reaction.

“You know what I do?” You asked him. “For a living, I mean.” You glanced at him. He turned his eyes towards you in anticipation.

“I’m a physical therapist.” You continued. “Just finished school last year, but I’ve been working with the VA in Chicago for six months already. I guess you could call it an internship, but I think I’m going to take a permanent position.”

“The VA?” Clyde repeated. “You work with veterans?”

“Every day.” You nodded and smiled. “Where were you stationed?” You were making an assumption, but you wouldn’t have made a bet that you were right.

“Fort Bragg.” Clyde confirmed your educated guess. “‘Til I was deployed to Iraq.”

“Army?” you said in reply, and he nodded. He didn't expand on that nod, but you had seen the tattoo on his forearm. He had been some sort of Special Forces. It was unusual that he didn't brag. “And at the risk of sounding cliche, thank you for your service.”

“Not at all.” He responded, and his voice was soft. “Knowin’ someone sweet as you appreciates it makes it a little bit easier.” You blushed at his words, although you didn’t know why. What was it with this guy? You decided to steer the topic away from an obviously difficult subject.

"So, um…. I know I'm only in town for a week, but..." you couldn't believe you were about to say what you were about to say to a guy you'd known for only a couple of hours. "Would you go to dinner with me one night? I've enjoyed talking to you, Clyde. I'd really like to get to know you better."  
  
"Darlin', I'd go to supper with you _every_ night and twice on Sunday." Clyde replied in earnest, and when you looked up at him, the grin on his face made your cheeks go an even darker shade of crimson.  
  
"Got your phone on you?" you asked, and he fished it out of his shirt pocket. It was an ancient model iphone with a crack that ran across the top corner.  
  
"I don't have much need for one of them fancy smarty-phones." he said sheepishly when he saw your reaction. "I don't do a whole lotta' callin' or text-messagin'."  
  
"Well then," you replied with a gleam in your eye. "Let's see if we can change that."  You opened up his contact app and added your name and number, and then saved it. You leaned over so the two of you could look at the tiny screen together. You noticed that this time, when your arm pressed against his, he didn't draw back. You showed him how to open the contacts, and where you name was, and how to click the icon to call you.  
  
"Now watch this." you said.  You showed him how to open the messages app. "Send me a text." He looked at you like you'd just asked him to do the impossible.  
  
"Don't you have to have two thumbs to do that?" he asked, and you almost giggled when you suddenly realized he was serious. You smiled at him and shook your head.

"Not at all. Here, let me show you.” You took his phone and put it in his right hand. "You can hold the phone and text with your thumb at the same time." You put your own phone in your right hand and demonstrated, although your tiny hands made it look awkward, and you nearly dropped your phone twice. "Well, you get the idea.  And your hand is..." you stared at his hand and cleared your throat a bit when you realized you were taking a little too long to continue your thought. "bigger...I mean… big.. enough... so that you shouldn't have the same problem as I do. Give it a try!"  
  
"What should I say to ya'?" he asked, and this time you did giggle.  
  
"Anything you want! And when you're done, press that little icon right there to send it."  
  
He balanced the phone in his hand and used his thumb to type. Damn, he caught on quick. You watched as he worked the tiny phone with skill, and your mind could not help but wonder what else those fingers could do. Your phone suddenly dinged, startling you from your daydream. You read the text he sent.  
  
'tuesday night at 7? it is italian night at the elks club and martha edwards makes a mean lasagna.'  
  
You smiled like a smitten school girl and typed your reply.  
  
'Tuesday night with you and Martha's lasagna sounds like the perfect date.' Once you hit send, you heard his phone vibrate. He clicked and read it, and smiled like a smitten school boy.  
  
"I suppose I could get used to that." he said. "I get kind of nervous when I have to talk on the phone. Writin’ is easier. I can think about what I wanna say before I have t'say it." He was still sitting close, right up against you, and his scent - the smells of the bar mixed with his own woodsy musk - was frankly intoxicating.  You felt that sensation deep inside you again.  
  
"If you think that's cool, check this out!" You turned and made a silly face and took a selfie with your phone, then sent it to him in a text.  
  
"Oh, darlin', you need ta’ stop." he said with a chuckle when he saw the texted photo. "I don't know if I can take much more. Bad enough I have to think about you 'til Tuesday night. If you send me pretty pictures..."  
  
"Who says we have to wait until Tuesday?" you said, and you could only imagine what look you had in your eyes, because when he turned to you and saw it, he froze.  
  
"I, uh..." he stammered, and you quickly realized your mistake.  This wasn't some slick Chicago city fuck-boy. Clyde was a man of honor who obviously respected the women in his life, and probably hadn't had a whole lot of one night stands, if any.  
  
"I'm so sorry." you said to rescue him from the awkwardness. "I don't know where that came from. I just... I guess I'm kind of taken by you, Clyde. That was uncalled for, though. I apologize."  
  
"No, no. Don't apologize. I… I’m flattered, darlin’. I wish I was as brave as you!" he replied. His face had started to redden.  
  
"Did the Iraqi war veteran just say he wishes he was as brave as me?" you laughed, and he chuckled along with you. "I don't think that was bravery, Clyde.  More along the lines of brazen stupidity on my part. You know what? I should get going. I'm supposed to be at the farm for breakfast tomorrow. My aunt’s pancakes are something you never want to be late for!”

“Let me walk you to your car.” he said. “Gets real dark out in that parkin’ lot.” You smiled warmly at his chivalry. When you hopped off your bar stool and turned, you were struck with the realization of just how much bigger than you he was. He towered over you by at least a foot, maybe even a little more.  And dear God, he was broad in ALL the right places. The two of you walked side-by-side out to your car, and when you beeped the key fob on the rental, Clyde immediately grabbed the door handle before you could do it yourself, and opened your door. You climbed inside, and he leaned over to give you directions.

“Now when you leave the parkin’ lot, you’re gonna turn left, then take the second left, alright?” he waited until you had nodded in agreement to continue. “Take that road until you get to tha’ red light. That’s Highway 5. Take another left, and the motel is gonna be down about a mile. If you see the dairy farm, ya’ went too far.”

He gently shut the door of the car, and you promptly rolled the window down. He leaned over and rested his forearm against the door so that he was eye-level with you. “Now if you get lost, don’t try t’find yer way back here. Just gimme a call, alright?” You nodded up at him with a smile. Before he could stand, you quickly leaned over and snuck a kiss on his cheek. You thought he might burst, he looked so surprised.

“What was that fer?” he asked, but his voice was soft.

“For being a gentleman, Clyde Logan.” you said, and started the engine of the rental. “I’ll text you when I get to the motel, ok?  Don’t want you to worry about me.”

“Well, I’m prob’ly gonna do that anyway, just so ya’ know.” He stood then, and stepped back from the car. “Be careful, darlin’. Watch fer’ deer! They’ll jump right out in front of ya’”

You waved out of the open window as you pulled out of the parking lot.

The Cozy Comfort motel wasn’t quite as comfortable as you would have liked. It looked more like the Bates Motel that had had a quick slap of paint and some new bed linens applied, but what could you expect this far out in the middle of nowhere? Once the attendant had given you the key, you parked your car in front of the door to your room and grabbed your bag and went inside. Thank goodness your room was on the front side of the building, where there was some light from the big bright sign by the side of the road.

Once inside, you took a quick shower, slipped on your favorite t-shirt and a pair of boy shorts, and slid into bed. At least the mattress was fairly comfortable, and the sheets were soft. No wifi (big shock) but you had just enough of a signal right off the highway that you would be able to text Clyde. That thought sent a little quiver to a place it probably shouldn’t have.

‘Made it to the motel!’ you sent. Before your phone screen could even dim, you saw he was typing a reply.

‘I’m glad your safe. everything there alright?’

‘Yep! Right as rain.’ you wrote back ‘Took a shower and I’m already in bed. No wifi here so no Netflix tonight.’

‘Netflix. that is the movie place on the internet right?’

You smirked. God, he was adorable. ‘Yes, it is indeed that movie place on the internet. I’ll have to show you how to Netflix and chill sometime.’ you typed, knowing full well it would go straight over his head.

‘that sounds real nice sweetheart’’

Mission accomplished. Now to seal the deal. You took a selfie in the low light of the room, the tattered neck of your sleep shirt showing a hint of your cleavage, and just enough of your bare hip in the pic to get the point across without being tacky or distasteful. You attached it to the text with the words ‘Sweet dreams’.

You thought for sure you had overstepped when he didn’t answer for what seemed like forever, or maybe that he’d fainted and hit his head on the bar when he’d seen the pic. You were into your second round of solitaire on your phone when it finally dinged.

‘Darlin your prettier than the first peach of the summer.’ he typed. You assumed that was a compliment and replied as such.

‘Why thank you, kind sir. You’re not so bad yourself, you know.’

‘Oh I don’t know about all that.’ he replied and you could nearly feel his embarrassment through your phone screen.

‘Trust me, Clyde. You are a very good looking man. You know what? Scratch that. Baby, you are HOT!’ you typed back, and even added the little flame emoji at the end.  Fuck it, you were going to put all your chips on the table.

Again, a long pause that made you nervous. Finally, his reply.

‘Well I’m not one to argue with a lady, so I will take your word for it.’

Damn, that hadn’t gone over exactly like you had wanted it to. Why was this guy _so nice_? You decided to dial it back a notch and maybe appeal to his heroic side.

‘It’s so dark out here.’ you told him in your next text. ‘Chilly tonight too. Glad you’re there to text with me or I might be scared.’

The little dots animated to show he was typing, and they seemed to go on forever. Either he was writing you a novel, or he was having trouble getting out what he wanted to say. You were betting on the latter.

‘You ok?’ you asked, ‘You can tell me anything, Clyde. I certainly haven’t had much of a filter tonight, but I can’t help how much I like you. I know it sounds silly, especially since we just met, but I was attracted to you the minute I saw you. I wish we’d had more time together tonight.’

The little dots stopped as he read your message. There was a pause, and then they started again. This time, it didn’t take long for his message to appear.

‘Me too.’ it said simply. But then, ‘Do me a favor?”

‘Of course’ you replied, silently hoping he was going to ask for another, possibly more risqué selfie (although you sincerely doubted he would).

‘Take a look out the window.’ You furrowed your brow as you read the message.  What the...? You slid out of bed and pulled back the curtain of the single window just enough to glance outside. There, on the other side of the parking lot was Clyde, standing against an old beat up pickup truck, phone in hand. You snapped the curtain closed and pressed your back against the wall, unable to suppress a giggle.  Holy shit! You quickly typed a response.

‘Well what the hell are you doing standing out there in the cold? Come in here where I’m warm.’

Barely ten seconds passed before there was a tapping on the door. You opened it, making sure to stand back so no one would see you in your underwear. The room was dark, save for the little light over the sink in the bathroom which cast a warm orange glow out into the room. Once he was inside, you opened your mouth to say something cute and sassy to him, but before the words could come out, Clyde had you in his arms (both of them, you happily noticed). He lifted you up so that you were nearly face to face with him, sandwiching you between him and the door and god, he felt so good.

You wrapped your arms around his neck as he devoured your mouth with his. He kissed you like he was starving, tugging at your lips, dipping in with his velvet tongue, wet and deep and delicious. For a moment, you forgot to breathe, and when you did, it came as a gasp. He took that as a sign that you were enjoying what he was giving you (yes, you most certainly were) and he continued without abandon.

You moved your hands down to venture underneath his t-shirt as he kissed you, desperate to feel the warmth of his skin. When your fingers found flesh, you felt him shiver, and goosebumps raised beneath your fingertips. You moaned against his mouth as you felt his huge right hand squeeze the flesh of your thigh, and then move up to grip your scantily clad ass. You bucked against him slightly and felt him react beneath you, the bulge in his jeans becoming even more pronounced. You backed away from his mouth long enough to get two words out.

“Bed. Now.” you said, your voice raspy with need, and being the gentleman he was, Clyde immediately complied.  He placed you gingerly on the mattress, took a moment to drink you in, and then began to undress himself. When he began to remove his flannel shirt, he looked down at his prosthetic. You spoke before he had the chance to get nervous about it.

“Whatever you’re more comfortable with is fine with me.” you said, and he nodded. He undid the straps and removed the prosthetic hand and laid it on the chair near the bed, then tossed his flannel shirt on top of it.  His t-shirt was next and my god, he was beautiful. You thought about helping him undo his pants (it was the physical therapist in you), but he had that down to an art form and had unbuttoned, unzipped, and shimmied out of his jeans before you could as much as reach forward to help.

You realized you were behind in the game a bit, and pulled your t-shirt over your head.  Your tits bounced free and you swore you heard him squeak under his breath, but he smoothly covered it by clearing his throat. You grinned and watched him continue to undress like it was the best show you’d ever seen.  And honestly, it did rank very high on the list.

He hitched his thumb into the waist of his boxers and slid them down, and it was your turn to squeak. However beautiful you thought Clyde Logan was, his cock was ten times as magnificent. If you’d had any question about whether the size of his more outwardly viewable body parts were in proportion to the less accessible ones, that answer was a resounding YES.

Just when you thought you couldn’t stand not touching him anymore, he was on the bed, his huge, warm body hovering above you. You ran your fingertips up his chest and around his neck, and when he leaned in to kiss you, your fingers found purchase in his long, dark locks. God, his hair was so soft. His lips were so soft. But there was one thing that was most definitely not soft, and when you reached down and took it in your hand, you felt his entire body react. Your fingers couldn’t even close around his cock he was so thick, and you silently wondered how it would fit inside of you. That was a challenge you were most definitely willing to accept, the thought of which sent a chill up your spine.

He balanced his weight on his left elbow above your head, his right hand exploring your body as you lightly stroked his cock with your hand. His touch was simultaneously rough and soft, and he soon had you writhing with need beneath him. Your tits, the size of which you had always been proud of, completely disappeared underneath his massive hand, and when he pinched a nipple between thumb and forefinger, you cried out in pleasure.

“I’m sorry, darlin’” he said as he raised himself up off of you a bit, thinking he had hurt you.

“No, no.” you cooed, wrapping your free hand around his waist and pulling him back to you. “That was a happy sound.” You peppered his shoulder and neck with kisses and sighed against his skin when his fingers returned to your nipple. This time, he did not stop when he coaxed out your little cries.

His hand moved down and you wondered if it was possible to actually die of anticipation as he slowly slid his fingers beneath the top of your panties. When his fingers found your slit, you moaned into his shoulder, and you heard him draw in a breath between his teeth.

“God, darlin’, you’re so wet.” he whispered in your ear, and you hummed in response.

“Mmmmm… That would be your fault.” You replied with a grin, but then he slid two massive fingers inside you and you bucked beneath him. “God, Clyde!” you exclaimed, your fingers digging into his upper arms as he explored you, his thumb gently grazing your clit in maddeningly slow circles. He worked you into a near frenzy, your breath coming in little heated gasps. And the entire time, he kissed you gently here and there, every third or fourth kiss returning to your lips.

“Do you mind if I…” Clyde said suddenly, but then paused, unsure of himself. “I mean, would it be ok if I…”

“What do you want, baby?” you asked, your lips hot against his neck as you kissed and nipped at the flesh there.

“I’m just dyin’ to taste you, sweetheart.” he replied, and his voice was deep and filled with need. The mere thought of that man’s mouth on your pussy was enough to make you whimper so there was no way in hell you were passing up his offer. You thought about the logistics for a second, given your size and his (and the size of the small double bed) and came up with a solution.

“Lie down.” You instructed as you pushed him back with your hands. He did as you instructed, and when he was flat on his back, you slid your panties off and climbed on top of him, straddling his broad chest. “You want to taste me, baby?” You asked. He nodded. You almost felt guilty for teasing him, but on the other hand, you knew it was going to be worth it. You slid your fingers down into your slick folds and flicked your clit with your middle finger, whimpering softly. When your fingers were thoroughly wet with your juices, you removed them and held them over Clyde’s mouth.

“Open.” You instructed and his mouth popped open as if you had flipped a switch. You stuck your fingers in his mouth and moaned as he sucked your essence from them. You jerked your fingers out of his mouth and he made a disappointed sound which made you smirk. “More?” You asked, and he nodded his head, eager as a kid in a candy shop.

“Scoot down a little.” you instructed and again he complied immediately and without question (damn, his obedience was really starting to turn you on!) You raised up on your knees and positioned yourself over his face. Before you even had a chance to say a word, he had grabbed your hip with that massive right hand and thrust you down onto his mouth. You gasped loudly as he worked you with his lips and tongue and he grasped you so tightly against him, you wondered how in the hell he could breathe.

The noises he was making while he ate you out were utterly filthy. Wet, sloppy sounds accompanied his grunts of pleasure, and holy shit, they were driving you mad. You slammed one hand flat against the wall behind the bed to steady yourself as you reached down to grab a handful of that ample black hair. How was he so good at this? He knew just when to flick, and just when to suck, and just when you thought it couldn’t get any better, he slid those thick fingers back inside you. You came undone — immediately and with little warning. Your knees weakened and you barely had a chance to utter the first letter of his name before you were pulled into one of the most intense orgasms you had ever had.

Clyde reveled in every second of your orgasm, and when you were done, he gently moved out from under you and took you in his arms (again, both of them) and laid you back down on the mattress. He reached over and grabbed his t-shirt from the chair beside the bed and wiped his face before laying on his side beside you, his left arm behind your head. You melted against him, his big arms engulfing you as you laid your head on his chest and breathed him in.

“I just need a sec.” you whispered. Your voice sounded dreamy and far away.

“You take all the time you need, sweetheart.” He replied softly. The fingers of his right hand were stroking little patterns on your hip, his breath hot against your hair as he laid patiently beside you, allowing you time to recover. You silently wondered how such a generous lover could still be single. Hell, was he even single?  How would you know? You just met him that night, and had already climbed into bed with him. You sighed deeply against his chest. You had come to the country to escape, but you evidently had not been able to escape your own bad habits.

“You ok?” Clyde asked softly. He had heard your sigh.

“Mmm hmmm.” you hummed against his skin. What did it matter anyway? You’d be gone from this place in a week, and all of this, including Clyde Logan, would just be a memory.

Even though you were still floating from your orgasm, you couldn’t stand to make him wait any longer, and besides, his massive cock pressing against your stomach was making you horny all over again. You pushed him onto his back, still amused at how he had no trouble letting a girl half his size do whatever you wanted with him. You kissed him, and the fact that he still smelled and tasted like your pussy drove you a little crazy, causing your kisses to become deep and heated. You grasped his cock in your hand and he moaned into your mouth as you stroked him.  You flicked a bead of precum from the head of his dick and then broke your kiss with him so you could lick the sticky substance from the pad of your thumb. From the look on his face, you thought he might cum then and there.

“Mmmmmm.” you cooed, your thumb slowly caressing your bottom lip, then moving down between your breasts, down your stomach, and back to his cock, which twitched with anticipation of your touch. “I think I want more of that.”

You slid your body down his and when you reached your destination, you ran your tongue up the length of his ample shaft.

“Oh god, please, darlin’!” he exclaimed, and in response, you took his cock in your mouth. His breath hitched in his throat as you ran your tongue slowly around the perimeter of the head. When you released him from the warmth of your mouth, you weren’t surprised to hear him beg.

“Please. Please don’t stop.” he whimpered, which sounded utterly delicious to you in that deep, rich voice of his.

“Hold my hair.” you instructed, and scooped your hair back so he could take it in his hand. You returned to his cock, taking it slowly into your mouth as deeply as you could, but fuck, he was so thick. It wasn’t long before your jaws ached from the size of him, but you persevered, sucking him off while you stroked the base of his cock with your hand. It wasn’t long before you were both a mess, his cock and your lips slick with your saliva and his precum. His hand was grasping tighter at your hair, his hips jutting upwards with your downward strokes, his breath fast and shallow.  He was so close. You were anticipating feeling the hot stream of his cum hit the back of your throat when he released your hair and gripped your shoulder.

“Alright, darlin’.” he said, and then to your surprise. “Stop now.” you released him from your mouth and gave him a confused look.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, wondering if you’d done something that he didn’t like.

“Nothin’s wrong.” he explained. “I just didn’t want to… you know... do that in your mouth. Doesn’t seem respectful.”

You blinked at him, remembering the thought you’d had about him in the bar earlier. Respectful of the women in his life.  Boy had you called it. He patted the bed beside him.

“Com’ere, baby doll.” he said, and you felt a little tingle at his choice of new pet name. “I’ve got somethin’ better for ya’ than that anyway.” The desire in his deep voice rolled through you like thunder, and this time, you complied. You crawled up next to him, but he turned to fish for his jeans on the floor. When he found them, he reached in one of the pockets and pulled out a condom. Respectful _and_ responsible, you thought to yourself. This guy really did have it all. You watched as he rolled it on, your breath quickening as you anticipated what was next.

He was so big -- not only his cock, but just huge in general, that it was incredibly intimidating to be beneath him, especially since you were so much smaller than him. He seemed to understand that, however, and knew how to defuse it. He began a campaign of sweet kisses that trailed against your hairline, down your cheek and to your neck, where he nuzzled for a moment, making you giggle as he tickled you with the hair on his chin. He chuckled at your response and leaned in against your ear.

“If I hurt you, just tell me to stop, alright?” he whispered and you nodded in reply. He dipped his fingers into your folds, as if he were testing to see if you were ready for him. You were. You spread your legs wide so that he could move between them, and wrapped your arms around his neck as he reached down to grip his cock and...

Oh! Oh my god. You felt your walls involuntarily convulse when he pushed inside you, unused to being so full and so stretched. He began his thrusts slow and shallow and you were thankful. It was a lot to take, but his patience allowed you time to adjust, and before long, you had both legs wrapped around his hips, and were meeting each of his thrusts with your own.

You had never been fucked so thoroughly in your life.  Every nerve in your body was screaming with pleasure as he drove you mad with his long strokes. The head of his cock consistently found that elusive spot deep inside of you, and each time it did, you would cry out, which would only cause him to fuck you harder. You were soon panting as he growled and grunted like a wild animal atop you, and as you neared your release, you dug your nails into his skin and held on for dear life.

“Clyde! God, baby, yes” you screamed, repeating his name as a mantra over and over as stars filled your vision as you came. The second he felt your pussy tighten around his cock he threw his head back and you felt it deep inside you as he found his release.

He collapsed beside you, a heaving, sweaty, gorgeous mess. Once he had caught his breath, he rose up on his elbow and planted a kiss on your lips, then rose from the bed. Ah. So that was it then. The door to the bathroom clicked shut and you leaned over the side of the bed, searching for your panties and t-shirt. You had just laid hands on them when Clyde exited the bathroom. You were trying to convince yourself that you preferred this — a clean break without any complications, when Clyde was suddenly on the bed again and wrapped around you like a warm blanket, his head resting on your belly. Ok. Well, complications also made things interesting. Right?

You ran your hands back through his dark hair, occasionally twisting a strand around your finger as his breathing deepened. He fell asleep, a big warm puppy wrapped in your arms. But you lay awake, desperately wondering what you’d gotten yourself into.

All of this over one little wrong turn.


	2. Act Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a year away from Boone County, a family emergency pulls you back. During one of the worst weeks of you life, Clyde stands by you, no questions asked. You are forced to accept your feelings for him, and accept his feelings for you. But, where will it lead? Can you give up everything you know to start a new life in this small West Virginia town, with the man you're undeniably falling in love with?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to everyone who asked for this expansion. I hope you enjoy it! Part three will be along soon.

“I’ll see you next Thursday, Terry.” you said to your last patient of the day, a man who had spent the last year of his final deployment with the Army in Afghanistan. Terry had come home early after an enemy sniper made a wasteland of the landscape of his right knee.

You stood and watched as he limped to the door and opened it with his free hand as he leaned on his cane. You had learned early on during your time at the VA not to offer unsolicited help to the men and women you saw during physical therapy sessions. Unsurprisingly, they very rarely asked. Regardless, it was always hard to watch someone struggle, even with the knowledge that it is your job to help them find independence. That empathy was what drove you to physical therapy as a career in the first place.

“I feel stronger.” Terry said before he walked through the door, not bothering to turn and look at you. That didn’t surprise you, either. It was sometimes very difficult for these injured men to make serious connections once they were home, even with people they trusted.

“You are stronger, Terry.” you replied. It was the first positive thing you had heard him say since you’d been working with him, and you wanted to reinforce his optimism.  You had been seeing him in physical therapy for two months, trying to help him gain freedom from the cane he relied on to walk. He hated it, and was doing everything in his power to increase strength in his leg so he could walk without assistance. “I’m proud of you. We make a great team, right?”

You saw him nod as he walked into the hall.  That was good. You’d take that little win.

It was nearly dinner time and you shouldn’t have still been at the VA, but as usual, you refused to leave until all your patients had been seen.  The system was overwhelmed with veterans and military personnel needing assistance, and sometimes your patients waited months for an appointment. There was no way you were leaving until every last person on your schedule had been seen. There had been nights you didn’t leave until well after 10pm. You knew exactly what you were in for when you accepted the position at the VA after you completed your degree. You had accepted because you wanted to see the reality of physical therapy. You had also done it to show yourself you were strong, after years of doubting yourself. You hadn’t expected to be here for so long, but nearly a year and a half later, you couldn’t bring yourself to leave.

As you wiped down the therapy equipment and picked up the tools and items you used to rehabilitate the more severe therapy cases, your phone rang. You glanced at the unfamiliar number and almost let it go to voicemail until you recognized the area code. 304. West Virginia. There were only two people you ever received calls from within that area code, and you smiled at the thought of both of them.

“Yes, ma’am.” The unfamiliar voice with a heavy drawl on the other end of the line said when you had answered. “My name is Deputy Clark with the Boone County, West Virginia Sheriff's Department.” your eyebrows knitted in immediate concern. “Your number was listed as an emergency contact for Charlene Thomas.”

“She’s my aunt.” you replied, a sense of urgency in your voice. “What’s happened?”

“She’s been taken to Mercy General, ma’am. Her mail lady noticed there was still mail in the box from yesterday and went to the door to check on her. Seems Ms. Thomas may have had a stroke or something - I don’t really have any more information than that. You might want to contact someone, or try to get yourself to the hospital.”

“I’m all she has left.” you replied, wearily. Your forehead was resting on your fingertips. Poor Aunt Charlie. You has asked her a thousand times to leave that damn farm and come to live with you in Chicago. As hard headed as you, she had refused.

“Well, ma’am.” the officer on the line said softly. “I’m not sure where you are, but you might wanna get here.”

“Thank you.” you said simply before you hit the end call button. The second you hung up, the phone started to ring again. Numb, you looked down at the screen. Your eyes welled up with tears. News traveled fast as wildfire in a small town.

“Clyde.” you said, and his name came out more as a plea than a salutation, but it was all you could manage.

Clyde had been the second person difficult to leave behind, aside from Aunt Charlie, after your brief time in West Virginia.  A faulty GPS signal and one fateful wrong turn led you into Clyde’s bar the night you arrived in Boone County. After one of the best weeks of your life, you were mad as hell at yourself once it was time to return to Illinois -- not only for jumping into bed with Clyde the first night you met him (also one of the best experiences of your life), but allowing yourself to get so attached so quickly. And worse yet, for letting the gigantic yet sugar sweet army vet get equally, if not more, attached to you. Watching him watch you leave with sad brown eyes on that Saturday morning had left you wiping tears all the way to the Ohio state line.

“What can I do, darlin’?” he asked, and his voice immediately calmed you a bit. Your mind was reeling. You were nearly ten hours away. You had not slept since the night before. You could catch a red-eye maybe, but that was still hours out.

“I’ll try to get a flight, but I don’t know when.” you said, and you were already so tired it was a struggle just to push the words out of your mouth.  “I don’t want her to be alone, Clyde, can someone…”

“Mellie is already there with her.” he said, and your relief was overwhelming. “She just seen her at the salon on Monday mornin’ and she seemed fine. She got ‘erself up to the hospital the minute we all heard.”

You didn’t know what to say next, so there was a long pause.

“Let me know when you’ll be here.” Clyde said, quietly, breaking the silence. He was trying not to overwhelm you while still being helpful. “I’ll be right there at the airport waitin’ for ya’.”

“Ok. Thank you, Clyde.”

“You’re more than welcome, darlin’.” he said, but there was something in his voice you’d never heard before.  He was worried.

So were you.

\------

You slept fitfully for a couple of hours during the turbulent flight from Chicago to West Virginia, plagued by dreams of something chasing you through the tall grass behind your aunt’s farm. You awoke with a start just as the captain announced your arrival at the Charleston, WV airport just shy of 5:30 in the morning.

You had texted Clyde your flight details before you left Chicago, and as soon as the plane was at the terminal, you pulled up your message app to check your texts as you rushed to baggage claim. There were two, both from Clyde.

4:17am  
\----------  
Clyde  
On my way to the airport.

5:03am  
\----------  
Clyde  
Parked in the south deck.  
See you soon.

You shook your head in disbelief. He had been up all night. He had driven almost an hour to the airport on no sleep. For you.

You reached the baggage area and saw him immediately. He was leaning with his back up against the wall, hands jammed into the pockets of his worn jeans. Clyde Logan hadn’t changed much at all since you’d last seen him, and that was in no way a bad thing. Mellie had maybe trimmed his hair a bit, but it was still so long that it brushed the tops of his broad shoulders. His eyes darted back and forth, watching the people walking towards the baggage conveyor, and it gave you a little thrill to know that he was looking for you and only you.

Something was off, though. Clyde never had an overwhelmingly cheery personality, but this morning, something was weighing on him. Or maybe it was just the lack of sleep.

At the risk of making a spectacle, you ran to him, nearly toppling a couple of annoyed and sleepy travelers waiting for their bags. He saw you coming just in time to catch you in a surprised embrace. He lifted you in the air and held you tightly, and that was just enough to coax out the emotions you had been trying so desperately to hide. Tears began to fall as you heard his voice, low and soft against your hair.

“Oh, Darlin’, I am so happy to see you.” His arms squeezed you so tightly you thought you might burst. “God, I missed you so much.”

“I missed you too.” you said quietly. “I’m sorry, Clyde.”

No. Don’t do this. Knock it off. You’re upset and emotional and you’ll regret...

“What in the world could you possibly have to be sorry fer, sweetheart?” he asked, that slow mountaintop drawl flowing over you like warm molasses.

“When I left last summer, I promised you I’d be back soon.” a tear streamed down your cheek but he kissed it it away. “I didn’t mean to stay away for so long.”

Liar. You had avoided Boone County like the plague for as long as you could, as if the prospect of some sort of continued relationship with this man would be the end of life as you knew it.

“Well, that don’t matter none now, does it?” he asked, rhetorically. “Cause here you are -- in my arms. Right where you belong.” The corners of his mouth turned up in the closest thing anyone would ever get to a smile from Clyde Logan. “Now let’s go get yer bag.”

\----------------

Clyde tossed your small suitcase into the bed of his old beat-up truck once you’d made it to the parking deck. He opened the passenger side door and helped you hop inside, then went around and slid in the driver seat. He shut the door, then gripped the steering wheel tightly as he let out a deep, wavering sigh. When he turned to face you, the look in his eyes told you something was very wrong.

“Darlin’, I didn’t wanna tell you first thing when I seen you ‘cause I wanted to hug your neck and get you back to the truck, and I’m s’sorry. But…”

“She’s gone.”

He didn’t have to answer for you to know. He looked at you, eyes deep with concern seeking your face, looking for words, but coming up short.

You felt so alone, a sudden and overwhelming sensation. The very last of your family had just vanished from the earth, and you hadn’t even had a chance to say goodbye.

Your mind, forever analytical, forever solving problems, went immediately to the arrangements. Where would the funeral be held? Would she have even wanted one? Where did one go to pick out a casket? And what about a burial plot? And then there was the entire other situation with the farm and the land and the animals.

“How do I…” you began, but your hand raised to your mouth, as if trying to keep the emotions from spilling out. “Where will they take her?” You asked through a sob, and you felt Clyde slide his arm around your shoulders as he scooted over on the bench seat of the truck to hold you to his chest.

“Everyone ‘round here new Charlie, sweetheart.” Clyde spoke against the top of your head. You felt bad that this man was having to comfort you. Truth be told, you barely knew each other except for a one night stand and a series of long text messages as he attempted to hold onto something (but what?) Regardless, he was the one single thing you had to hold onto right now. “Everyone loved her an’ I promise you they’re gonna take good care of ‘er. Things work diff’ernt here. This ain’t the big city. We take care of our own.”

You nodded against his chest, his shirt front already damp with your tears.

“You stayin’ at the mo-tel?” He asked, but you shook your head no. Regardless of being the venue for an incredible night of lovemaking you and the man holding you had enjoyed last summer, you couldn’t face another night at the Cozy Comfort. Not now, especially. You quietly wept against Clyde as he held you.

“Come home with me?” He said, more of a statement than a question, and you felt yourself nod before you even thought about the answer. You didn’t want to impose. You felt like a burden. Clyde squeezed your shoulder and then turned to put the truck in gear. Unsafe as it may have been without a seatbelt, Clyde kept his right arm around your waist and your head stayed on his shoulder as he drove the mountain roads. The sky glowed pink with the impending sunrise.

When you arrived at his trailer, the sun was almost completely up, but sleep was casting its long shadow over you. Clyde opened your door and took you out of the truck and into his arms, not asking if you needed or wanted help, and carried you to his door.

“It’s not fancy. I’m sure you’re used to ‘lots more, so m’sorry.”

Once he got you inside, he took you straight to the kitchen and sat you down on the faded Formica counter.

“Can ya’ eat somethin’?” He asked. He was trying to take care of you but was unsure how. “I can fix ya’ some breakfast. Eggs and bacon? Or I’ve got cereal’n milk. Or toast’n juice.”

“I’ll just take some buttered toast, please.” You said quietly. You had no appetite but it seemed polite. “What kind of juice?”

“Orange.”

You marveled at the domesticality of what was happening. This man hadn’t seen you in nearly a year. You had stayed in contact via a series of calls and texts and a few dirty photos and one late night, breathy phone sex session that you were sure had nearly done him in. But none of that had made you think of your relationship with Clyde as anything more than what you wanted it to be — just a bit of sexy fun.

Yet here you were, perched on his kitchen counter, watching as Clyde poured you a glass of orange juice and opened a loaf of bread to make you toast, and your aunt was dead and you hadn’t said goodbye and there was a farm about two miles south of Clyde’s trailer that you were going to have to clean out and sell, and there were chicken coops and a cow in the field and Charlie had just adopted two little orphaned goats, and you didn’t know a damn thing about goats or cows or chickens or even just farms in general, and... You dropped your head and wailed softly.

“Oh, sweetheart.” Clyde dropped the bread and turned to take you in his arms. “Hold on’ta me, baby doll. It’s gonna be ok. I’m right here.” You almost got angry at Clyde for assuming that just by him being there, you were magically supposed to feel better.

Until you realized that you did.

———

The angle of the sun indicated mid-afternoon when your eyes finally opened. What had initially begun as a short nap had ended up as several hours of deep sleep. You stretched and nuzzled your nose against the bed pillow, inhaling Clyde’s scent as you yawned deeply. You turned, looking for him in the small bedroom, but soft snores from the other room gave away his location.

You padded barefoot into the living room and smiled in spite of yourself. There was Clyde, sprawled out on the sofa, one long leg hanging off the side, a dog-eared paperback perched precariously on his chest. He, too, had been unable to resist the call of an afternoon nap. You didn’t want to wake him, but there were things you needed to take care of that could no longer be ignored, and you needed Clyde’s help.

You went down on your knees on the floor next to him and gently brushed a stray strand of dark hair from his forehead. You leaned in and kissed the shell of his ear and then softly whispered for him to wake up. He turned his head and stared at you groggily, his warm chestnut eyes still heavy with sleep. After a moment, he smiled softly and raised his fingers to brush your cheek.

“I thought fer a second I was dreamin’.” He said, his voice low. “Can’t b’lieve yer really here.”

“I’m sorry to wake you.” You said. “I’ve got so many things to do, though. I was hoping you might be able to drive me to…” it was hard to say the words. “...to the funeral home?”  
  
“Yeah. Yeah, of course!” He said. As he sat up, the book that had been lying on his chest fell to the floor. You picked it up and glanced at the title.   
  
“True West.” You read from the cover as you handed it back to him. “Didn’t peg you as a fan of modern playwrights, Mr. Logan.” you teased, but regretted it when you saw him turn bright red.   
  
“I read all sorts of stuff.” he said sheepishly as he tossed the book to the coffee table. “My mamma always said that readin’ is the best way to keep yer mind sharp.” He paused for a second and then continued. “I like that play s’much cuz’ it’s about two brothers. They argue a lot, and steal stuff they shouldn’t, and get inta’ a fair amount a’trouble. But I reckon they love each other cuz’ they’re fam’ly and all.” He paused again, momentarily lost in a faraway thought, then rose from the sofa to grab his keys.   
  
“Let’s get ya to the funeral home ‘fore it gets too late.” He approached you and gave your shoulders a soft squeeze. “You ready, darlin’?”   
  
No, you thought to yourself as you nodded up at him. You weren’t ready in the slightest.

\------------------

Four hours and seven minutes that afternoon took a good five years off your life. First, you had seen Charlie’s body in the funeral parlor. Clyde stood behind you as if he knew he needed to be there, stoic and silent as a tree to brace yourself against. You figured the Iraqi war vet was no stranger to dead bodies, but was also well aware that you were.

Trembling but unwilling to fall apart yet, you listened as the funeral director, a man a decade or so older than you named Jack Mason, gently walked you through the procedures for a funeral and burial of Charlie. Thankfully she had life and burial insurance which covered the costs, and had made arrangements in her living will that covered her preferences. Jack already had the document given to him by Charlie’s CPA, and you wrung your fingers out of sight in your lap as he read them to you. You were desperate not to weep in front of this man, although you were probably the first person that day he had not seen cry.

As you struggled to keep composure , you felt Clyde’s prosthetic hand graze the side of your thigh near your hand. It was just a gesture to remind you he was there, to comfort you as much as he could. He was sitting on the wrong side of you to offer his other hand to hold, but you didn’t care in the slightest. You reached over and grasped the cool gray metal of the hand, and out of the corner of your eye, you saw Clyde look down at your hand on his, then up at your face, bewildered.

You allowed Jack Mason of the Mason Memorial Funeral Home talk you into cremation for Charlie (not really - it was in her living will, but it seemed so final), and interment in the cemetery near the Baptist church where Charlie was a lifelong member of the congregation and choir. By the end of the conversation, you were emotionally spent. You had wanted to stop by the farm on your way back to Clyde’s trailer to feed and check on the animals while you had just enough strength left.

“Let me do that, baby doll.” Clyde had suggested in the truck, but you shook your head, although wearily.

“It’s not your job.” You warned. “Let's just stop before the sun goes down.”

Clyde knew when he was beat, so he cranked the truck and drove to Charlie’s farm. He pulled up on the gravel driveway in front of the short white fence that surrounded the property in front of the house.

Things looked calm in the diminishing afternoon sun. The cow was pastured, the chickens were in their coop, and the little goats were in their pen beside the barn. You looked around at the surreal beauty of it. Clyde walked over to stand beside you.

“So, how do I take care of them?” You asked, surveying back and forth between the pasture to the pen to the coop. “I mean, what do they eat?  Do I need to do anything for them?”

“The cow is ok on her own. She grazes on the grass, n’ she has the pond fer water. She’ll need to be milked ‘eventually, but we can tackle that t’morrah. Them little goats’ll eat near ‘bouts anything you give ‘em, but they got fresh hay fer now, and a big bucket of water so they look good. The hens’ll eat corn or whatever kind of grain you wanna give em’. Eggs’ll need to be took from em’ once a day for the rest of the summer.”

Clyde stopped talking because you hadn’t said anything in a while, and he turned to see you staring up at him as if he were speaking Greek. There was so much to do! You knew it would be a lot, but how in the hell had Charlie ever taken care of this all by herself? As if you weren’t afraid enough at the prospect of dealing with the farm and the house and everything else, now you were utterly terrified.

“It’s ok, darlin’.” Clyde said softly, correctly reading your look of horror. “Everything here is fine fer’ now. We got plenty of time to figger’ this stuff out. Let’s go back to the trailer and I’ll fix you a nice dinner and we can get a good rest and come back t’morrah with clear heads, ok?”

You nodded up at him, which you suddenly realized you’d been doing a lot in the short time you’d been together. You sighed as the two of you began to walk back to the truck. The truth of the matter was, there really wasn’t plenty of time to figure this stuff out.  You had only put in for a week off work, and nearly two of those days were gone. Panic slowly started to creep it’s way up your spine, but then you felt Clyde reach over and slowly slip his hand into yours. The panic retreated a bit.

“So.” You said teasingly as the passenger side door of the truck creaked as he opened it for you. “What’s for dinner, Chef Logan?”

\-----

Clyde Logan, much to your very pleasant surprise, was a wonderful cook. The sky outside the trailer was fading to the indigo shades of twilight as Clyde started gathering the ingredients for the meal he was preparing. He had vehemently refused to let you help him in the kitchen, so you sat on the sofa and pretended to read one of his many books (this one, A Farewell to Arms by Hemingway), but in reality, you couldn’t take your eyes off the handsome man in the kitchen.

You were falling hard for him, and you angrily pushed that realization aside. You had known your feelings for Clyde Logan were going to be a problem the first night you spent with him. What came as a surprise was that you weren’t sure you wanted to keep fighting those feelings. Yes, that was a very big surprise indeed. And you had no idea what to do about it.

When dinner was ready, Clyde called you to the table and, of course, pulled out your chair for you. Even though his old dining table was rickety, and the mismatched china you ate off of was chipped and faded, it was by far one of the best meals you had ever had.

“Is this…” you began, giving him an incredulous look. “Is this chicken parmesan?”

“Yep.” he answered with a sheepish grin. “Jimmy calls it my specialty. He always asks me ta’ make it fer’ his birthday. It’s Memaw Logan’s recipe. Jimmy always use ta’ make fun of me fer wantin’ to watch her cook when we was little, but she’d always just wink and tell me that men who knew how to cook was the ones that got the ladies.”

“Smart woman.” you said as you popped a bite of chicken in your mouth. Holy shit, it was delicious. You made a yummy noise, and when he looked up at you, you gave him a wink.

\--------------

Clyde argued, but you helped him with the dishes anyway. You hopped up on the counter next to him and dried each plate with an old dish towel as he rinsed and handed them to you.

“I want to thank you, Clyde.” You said softly. He looked at you, eyebrows raised as if to ask what for. “For having me in your home. For driving me around today, and for being such good moral support. And for such a fabulous dinner, of course.”

He wrung out the dish rag and hung it over the faucet. He came to you then, positioning his body between your open knees, and placed his hand on your cheek, caressing it with his thumb. The way he was looking at you brought back memories of that first night the two of you had spent together, and you felt yourself flush beneath his fingers. You grabbed a handful of his t-shirt, damp with dishwater, and pulled him to you.

“No need to thank me, ma’am.” he said with a grin.

“Oh, but I really want to, kind sir.” you replied, pulling him even closer so that you could place a trail of teasing kisses across his jawline, up to his ear.

“But I wonder how I might possibly show you how thankful I am?” you whispered, and you heard him let out a wavering breath. You grabbed ahold of his earlobe with your teeth and sucked on it softly. You weren’t sure what you would have called the noise he made just then, but it wasn’t an unhappy one.

Before you could contemplate your next move, Clyde had you up and off the counter and was carrying you towards the back of the trailer. Guess he had an idea about how you could thank him after all.

The two of you stripped your clothes off as if they were on fire and when you were both naked, you sat down on the edge of the bed and beckoned for Clyde to come closer. You took his cock, already semi-hard, in your hand and stroked him gently, then bent forward to lick a stripe from the base to the tip. You took the head of his cock into your mouth and rolled your tongue around the perimeter, and then sucked him further into your mouth. He moaned deeply and placed his hand on your head, fingers combing through your hair lightly as you sucked and stroked him. His breath became ragged as you worked him with your lips and tongue, taking him as far into your throat as you could without gagging on his length. You increased your speed, his cock slick with your saliva, his hand now gently holding your head in place as his hips jutted forward slightly into your stokes.

Just when you thought he was at the point of no return, you released his cock from your mouth with a salacious little ‘pop’, and moved back onto the bed, crawling backwards on all fours.

“An’ just where do you think yer goin’?” He asked in a playful tone, and you giggled. He reached over the mattress to grab you around the waist, and flipped you over on your back, sliding your body to the edge of the bed. You suddenly noticed that he had not bothered to take his prosthetic hand off, and somehow, that made him all the more sexier to you.

“You got yer turn.” He said as he went to his knees on the floor in front of you and pushed your thighs open. “Now it’s mine.”

You cried out in spite of yourself when his tongue found your clit. He devoured your pussy, licking and lapping and sucking until you were a sloppy mess beneath him. His tongue felt like warm, wet velvet rolling against your swollen nub, and when you felt two of his huge fingers slide inside your pussy, you moaned his name, grabbing the sheet beneath you so tightly it popped off the corner of the mattress. You wrapped your legs around his back and shoulders and used them to pull him closer. Your hips bucked beneath him as his fingers scissored inside your sopping wet pussy, the tip of his tongue flicking the underside of your clit. You were gasping loudly now, each inhale sounding like a soft shriek, your release imminent.

Cold metal on your flesh startled you, and you glanced down to see Clyde’s prosthetic hand there, mechanical fingers splayed across your belly.

“Not yet.” He said, looking up at you through eyes so dark they resembled black orbs in the failing evening light.

“Wha…?” you half asked, half gasped, and tried to sit up, but the metallic hand pushed you back to the mattress and held you down.

“You come when I say, baby doll. Understand?”

Well then! That was unexpected.

Intrigued and incredibly turned on by this sudden dominance in Clyde, you nodded and hummed a response. He lowered his mouth back down to your pussy and resumed his work. You weren’t sure how much longer you’d be able to take it. Your legs were already shaking in anticipation, your breath wavering. He flicked and sucked, and when you thought it couldn’t get any better, he angled the fingers inside of you just right so they found your secret spot. You gasped loudly, your back arching against the mattress.

“Does that mean you’re ready, sweetheart?”

“Y…. yes!” You mewled. “Oh please, can I come?”

He reached up with his thumb to circle your clit, the two fingers inside you twisting and massaging, threatening to drive you insane. Your orgasm was bubbling just underneath the surface now, the pressure almost too much to bear, the walls of your pussy already fluttering.

“I’m gonna count ta’ three.” He said, his voice as low as distant thunder before a storm. “When I get ta’ three, I want you to come. Ready?”

You gasped an unintelligible response, desperate for him to start counting so you could get the release you needed.

“One.”

The pressure on your clit increased, and you whimpered in response. You felt his mouth, hot as fire against your skin as he kissed his way from your thigh to your belly.

“Two.”

He slid his fingers from your pussy and his thumb left your clit and you moaned your displeasure. He rose from the floor to join you on the bed, kneeling above you on his knees. You heard a noise like crinkling plastic, and watched as he rolled a condom onto his thick cock. He bent down over you then, positioning himself between your open legs, and kissed you. You moaned against him, tasting your pussy on his lips as he devoured your mouth. You felt the head of his cock nudge your opening, and without further warning he pushed deep inside you. You shrieked, your entire body reacting to the sensation, intense pleasure teetering on the brink of pain.

“Three.”

It surprised you how quickly your body obeyed, the walls of your pussy squeezing tightly around his cock, breath caught in your throat, fingers tangled hopelessly in his hair. You came so hard and so long it made the room spin, your grip on reality shattered. There was nothing else but you, and him, and this delicious and magical sensation that he had coaxed from you. The waves of your orgasm ebbed and flowed, and he rode them along with you until his own release was upon him.

With a shudder and a groan, you felt it, his cock twitching inside of you as he came. When it was done and you were both spent, he eased out of you and collapsed to the bed beside you. He leaned in to kiss your shoulder, and in return you kissed his forehead, still damp from exertion.

He wrapped his arm around your waist, and again you felt the shock of cold metal. You reached down and grasped the fingers of his prosthetic hand in yours. You knew he couldn’t feel your grip, but that wasn’t what mattered. You wanted him to know you saw the hand as a real and important part of him, and that you were not offended by it’s touch. You wanted him to know that to you, he was complete and very much whole as a man. The gesture wasn’t lost on him, and you heard the soft whir of the mechanics in the prosthetic, and felt the fingers — his fingers — close gently around yours.

You held each other close as you slipped into sleep.

\----------------

You awoke to the smell of coffee and bacon wafting in from the kitchen. Clyde had left you in bed, wrapped in a warm blanket. It was early morning still, the sun barely kissing the morning sky. Somewhere down the way, a rooster crowed. You shook your head and laughed under your breath. That was something you’d never heard on your street in Chicago.

You padded into the kitchen, the blanket wrapped around your naked body.

“Mornin’, sunshine.” Clyde said, and handed you a piping hot cup of coffee.

“Oh my god, I love you.” you said as your chilly fingers met the warm cup.  Your sleepy eyes flew open wide when you realized what you’d just said to him, but his back was already to you, flipping the crispy bacon in the cast iron skillet on the stove. You leaned against the counter behind you.

“So what’s the plan for today?” you asked, and then yawned.

“A good breakfast, then I figgered we could head over to the farm.”

“I did a little research last night and there’s a company in Charleston that can come help organize an estate sale.  They’re sending someone out today to do an assessment. Also, I’m wondering if I can hire someone to take care of the animals when I head back to Chicago? At least until the farm sells. Do you know anyone who might be interested? Then I’m not sure what to do, unless the people who buy it want to keep them with the property.”

Silence.

You sipped your coffee, but the only sound were the birds chirping happily outside.

“Clyde?” you asked, unsure as to whether he’d heard all you’d said.

“Would you rather yer eggs scrambled or over easy?” he asked. You sighed.

“Clyde, look at me.”

He paused, but finally turned.

“You know I can’t keep the farm.” you said. Your voice was soft as you spoke to him, and somewhat sad. “I can’t even imagine the cost of upkeep of a place that big. And what about my job? I can’t just move down here on a whim without a job secured. Not to mention I don’t know the first thing about living in the country.”

“I do.” he said quietly, staring at you with those warm honey brown eyes. You dropped your gaze to your feet, unable to look at him any more.

“I think the bacon is burning.” you mentioned.

“That’s alright.” he said as he turned back to the stove. “I like it that way.”

\--------------

He was silent the entire drive to the farm, and silent as you used your key to open the front door. He was silent as you took a deep breath and surveyed the interior of the farm house. It was pristine as always, not a doily out of place, not a speck of dust anywhere to be seen. Clyde stood against the wall of the expansive kitchen with it’s whitewashed glass-front cabinets and butcher block island, but remained silent, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jeans.

Fine. You thought to yourself.  Be a big baby. But you knew deep down you wanted to go to him. Comfort him. Tell him you were sorry you couldn’t stay and live out whatever fantasy it was he had about the two of you and this farm.

“I’m’na go check on the chickens and the goats.” he finally said, and turned to head out the mudroom door. “I’ll show ya’ how to milk the cow if you want.” he paused. “Prolly don’t matter none, tho’, since you ain’t gonna be stayin’.”

Really? You sighed and watched his broad frame as he walked through the door, shoulders drooping, head down.  For a moment, you daydreamed about watching him leave like that every morning, after you’d cooked him a good meal for a change. But the Clyde in your dream was happy and smiling as he went to tend to the animals, then maybe off to the bar to get ready for the lunch crowd while you got ready for work.

Dammit!  It couldn’t work! You knew that. You had never intended on keeping this place. Even though you’d loved it as a child, you were an adult now, and your responsibilities were elsewhere.

Then again, that was your choice, wasn’t it?

A text notification buzzed on your phone. The lady from the estate sale company had just pulled up in the driveway. You texted her back and told her to join you in the kitchen.

\-----------

It felt impersonal and invasive to have someone just come into the house and start an inventory of Charlie’s belongings when the funeral wasn’t even until later that week. You sat on the Victorian style settee in the living room and answered questions for Rhonda, the estate sale woman as best you could -- questions about origin and dates and provenance of certain antiques inside the farmhouse, of which there were many. It felt surreal, and you hated every second of it.

When Rhonda was done with her assessment, and had a planner full of notes and a smart phone full of photos, she told you she’d be back in touch once she’d gotten back to Charleston.  The sale would be on Saturday of that upcoming weekend, only one day after Charlie’s funeral, and the day before you headed back to Illinois. Rhonda promised hundreds of shoppers at the sale, as they advertised prominently on all the estate sale websites, and would put up signage all over Boone county pointing people to the farm. 'Whoopee' you thought, as you felt a wave of nausea roll over you. This was wrong. This was all so very wrong.

You walked Rhonda to the door and thanked her for her time and help. As she made her way across the yard to her car, you saw Clyde near the barn drawing fresh water from the hand-pumped well for the goats, both of which were gnawing at the hem of his blue plaid work shirt. He shooed them back with his foot and adjusted the baseball cap on his head. You loved it when he wore that stupid damn thing because his hair would fall in cherubic coffee-brown ringlets beneath it. He was a beautiful man. A sweet, kind, generous beautiful man. And he was wrapped around every single one of your fingers.

“Cryin’ damn shame you gotta leave, city girl. This place suits you.” You nearly jumped out of your skin at the voice that came from just outside the front door. You stepped outside onto the porch, and there, in the rocking chair to the left, sat Jimmy Logan.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” he said, although you could tell he genuinely was not sorry at all. “Clyde told me ya’ll’d be out here this mornin’ so I thought I’d come say hey.” He paused and looked up at you stare at him behind crossed arms. “So, heeeeey!” he finished sarcastically. You rolled your eyes, unamused.

“Hey, listen darlin’” he started, and you interrupted him straight away.

“Don’t call me that.” you said dryly. Only one Logan got to call you that.

“Ohhhhh kay.” he replied. You sank into the rocking chair to the left of where he sat. “I’m real sorry ‘bout yer aunt and all. Charlie was a sweet ole’ bird. E’rrybody round here loved her.”

You nodded.

“Clyde’s been helpin’ her out around the farm ever since you left and went back to Chicago.” he said. You let out a breath it felt like you’d been holding for ten years. Of course he had. You shook your head in disbelief. “Reckon’ he didn’t tell you that. My bad.”

You had a sudden and overwhelming desire to punch Jimmy Logan in the arm.

“Reckon’ he didn’t tell you he wants to buy this place either, huh?”

“What??!” you asked, incredulous. “That’s ridiculous. Charlie told me it was in her will for me. Why in the hell would Clyde buy it? And with what money?”

“Ohhh don’t sell that old boy short.” Jimmy said. He was casually watching a tractor across the road as it plowed a large field. “He’s got some change tucked away. And if I’m not mistaken, he wanted to buy it to take the financial strain of inheritance taxes and property taxes and all that jazz off of you.” he stopped, then glanced at you to gauge your reaction. “You really this dumb, or just a little slow?”

“Excuse me?” you asked, heat rising in your cheeks.

“My brother may not be the best at showing his emotions, or sayin’ what he’s feelin’ and all that, but I’ve know for over a year that he’s in love with you. Lock, stock and barrel. He ain’t shut up about you since that night you walked into the bar. I don’t know what you done to him that night, but he shore as hell ain’t been the same since.” You blushed deeply, and Jimmy leaned forward in the rocking chair, but turned his head slightly so you’d be sure to hear what he was saying. “And let me tell you somethin’, Missy. When you’ve got the love of Clyde Logan, you’ve got it forever. And I sure as hell hope you don’t break his heart, because he don’t offer it to just anyone.” He looked you dead in the eyes then, and raised his eyebrows as if to drive the point home.

“What say, Jimmy?” Clyde said. He had strolled over to the porch and perched one long leg up on the top step.  You stared at him, suddenly very _aware_ of him. It was disconcerting.

“Y’all want some lemonade?” you asked, rising from the rocking chair so quickly it knocked against the side of the porch. You headed into the house before anyone had a chance to answer.

“What the hell’d you say, big mouth?” you heard Clyde ask as you rounded the corner to the kitchen. Clyde’s question was followed by Jimmy’s muffled reply of mock confusion. You rolled your eyes once again. These Logan boys were going to be the end of you.


End file.
